


Carry That Weight

by RisenPhoenix1403



Series: Maeve Lavellan [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, PTSD Inquisitor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8327392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisenPhoenix1403/pseuds/RisenPhoenix1403
Summary: After a discovery in Emprise du Lion, Lavellan finally breaks under the strain of leadership.





	

The trek back to the base camp in Sahrnia was subdued and quiet. Not even a cheery quip from Dorian echoed through the snowy valley. Maeve's mouth was in a hard line as she stomped ahead, avoiding Blackwall, avoiding everyone else in the party, come to think of it. The Tevinter mage frowned slightly and quickened his stride. “Come on, Mae. You're really taking this too hard. Yes, the business with the red lyrium quarry was... well, I suppose ugly is the best word for it. But we put a stop to it!”

 

“Did we?” Her voice was hollow, her expression riddled with doubts, sorrow, and anger. “You know if we don't move fast, then Corypheus will just keep at this.” She stopped and jabbed a finger at the mountain. “What we saw when Alexius sent us a year into the future? We didn't stop it. We've just moved those plans forward.” She sighed and raked a hand through her snow-coated hair in frustration, snarling slightly when a rivet on her leather gloves snagged a tangled curl. “It's like every setback he suffers doesn't matter. We rescue the mages from the Venatori, he recruits the Templars and assaults Haven. We free the Wardens from his mind control, we lose Hawke and Warden-Commander Clarel. And too damn many of our soldiers.” Every step forward they took, it felt like they made two steps backward. It actually made her miss the hard life of her clan, and even that was now lost to her.

 

Dorian looked her over. Maeve looked exhausted, strained. Far from the light-hearted Dalish healer he had met in Redcliffe. She gave so much of herself to help the Inquisition, help her inner circle, help _him_ face his father, and he wondered if there would be any of his friend left when all was said and done. “We'll put an end to this void-damned, blighted, overblown Magister. I swear it to you as your best and closest friend.”

 

A ghost of a smile formed on her lips, but only for a moment before the same hardened expression resumed. “You know, I'm honored to call you my best and closest friend.” She trudged on ahead, through the ruins of Sahrnia, and stopped at a familiar yellow-mortared home. She turned to her party, carefully eyeing Blackwall and Dorian. Sera, of course, would be all for telling off the woman inside the home for what she had done. “I'll just be a moment.” Despite the calm in her voice, both Dorian and Blackwall noticed the slight crackling of lightning around her closed fists.

 

Once she was out of earshot, the tall bearded man's shoulders slumped. “Maker's balls, I thought I'd seen her angry before.” The last time he had seen that reaction from her, when she had emotional manifestations of her magic, was when she found him in that dank, dark jail cell in Val Royeaux. He exchanged a look with Dorian, an arched eyebrow and a look of concern. They had both seen the fury she had possessed after they had found a villager dying in the snow from exposure to the red lyrium. Dorian had fallen back to making sure the party stayed alive with his meager protective magic as the Inquisitor threw everything she could at the Templars overseeing the mining operations – fire and lightning flung with abandon until she had fallen to her knees completely spent.

 

Sera had somehow managed to wedge herself between the two men, teeth chattering in the cold. “You're thinkin' Inky might go and blow her up, right?” She wrinkled her nose at the thought. “Like those Templars. Boom-squish-yuck.” The poor elf was still covered in bits of blood and gore from the ordeal, like the two men. Barriers only went so far, after all. “Everything's changing, and not for the better. She's hard now, becoming a broody beard. I miss pranks with her. And Inquisition cookies.”

 

“I think we all miss her.” Dorian blinked for a moment as Sera's words caught up with him. “Wait. Cookies?”

 

-

 

It was dark by the time they had settled in and paperwork filed with the requisition officer to transport Mistress Poulin back to Skyhold. The caravan with the prisoner had already left, and Maeve watched grimly as it disappeared over a hill. “You three can settle down for stew. I'm...not hungry.” She retreated to her tent and tied the flaps shut, much to her companions' displeasure. They settled around the campfire, eating ram stew and hardtack biscuits in silence. It was becoming more and more common for the Inquisitor to miss meals after particularly rough work in the field. Both Sera and Dorian were heavy enough sleepers to completely miss the screaming when she would wake from terrible dreams. Blackwall wasn't, after years of living on the run from his crimes, and further back when he had once been a soldier. He held her, tried to soothe her fears, but it never felt like enough.

 

“She shuts herself away, fears more loss, more death, more failure.” They looked over at Cole, who had opted to stay and help the villagers and ease any pains they may have, and had nearly forgotten in their time away that he had come with them. Despite being human now and not a spirit, he was always so quiet. “Soldiers, civilians, her clan.” Dorian and Sera had even stopped shoveling the hot stew into their mouths to hear what he had to say. “ _'Gods, make it stop! If you've been looking out all this time, please. Make. It._ _ **Stop**_ _!'_ Drowning, sinking further away. Wishes she had died in Haven. Or had taken Hawke's place in the Fade.”

 

Blackwall stood and stomped toward her tent, fighting back the fear, rage, and worry inside him. Despite the loss of trust after his past came to light, she had still let him in, let him comfort her in those dark hours. “Enough of this. It was a long day, a long march back. I'm getting some rest. The three of you should do the same before we move out in the morning.” He had used his best Captain Ranier voice, one that didn't permit any arguing with his orders. The pair scrambled for an unoccupied tent, while Cole perched on a barrel to take the first watch. The boy peered up at him, ghostly pale eyes under unkempt white-blond hair.

 

“Not my place to help make her better.” He looked up at the older man sadly. “She shut me out.” The sorrow turned to hope. “But maybe you can.” All Blackwall could offer was a grunt as his gloved fingers clumsily worked at the knots holding the tent opening closed.

 

Out of the wind, out of the cold, he found Maeve curled up on her bedroll, back away from the entry. Before he could launch into a lecture about always being wary of her surroundings (including sleeping facing away from a point of egress), she shifted.

 

“If it was anyone but you, Thom, I would have given them a fireball to the face.”

 

He chuckled, but it sounded hollow in the confines of the tent. “And if I were Sera, my lady?”

 

A small huff emerged from the lump curled under the woolen blankets and furs. “All right fine. I wouldn't have set Sera on fire. Nor Dorian.” She heard the soft rustle of leather and clinking of metal as he removed his heavier armor. Soon, warm arms somehow penetrated her barrier of blankets and she found his warm, strong arms circling her and his firm chest against her back. Feebly, she kicked away at her cocoon to share the blankets with him. Gods, he was always so warm, even in this forsaken place.

 

“We all worried for you today.”

 

“I know. I already had this talk with Dorian.” Her slim form shifted against him and his arms tightened a bit around her. “I owe you an explanation. Sera too, but she wasn't there with us.”

 

He arched an eyebrow at her words. “Wasn't there for what, Mae?” He felt her body heave as she took a deep breath (or was it a sob?), but all he could do for her now was listen and hold her. Perhaps Cole was right, even if he was a bit...odd.

 

Maeve licked her lips and blinked back tears as memories of that hellish day swirled in her mind. “When we were in Redcliffe Castle and Dorian and I were thrown into that portal by Alexius, we were thrown forward an entire year in time.”

 

“I remember that. You told me I died a hero.”

 

“To make sure we returned to set things right.” Her teeth dug into her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as she held back another sob. “None of it was right. You, Varric, and Leliana were dying! Alexius had Leliana infected by the Blight. You and Varric were in cells and...you both had been infected by the lyrium.” She shut her eyes tight, but the image of a broken, haunted Thom came to the forefront, the odd echoing in his voice from the lyrium slowly growing inside him. “None of it is fucking right! I thought we stopped it! Yet here we are, finding villagers who have been infected with it like it's a fucking Blight! You...you were in so much pain in that future. You all were.” The tears flowed freely now. She wanted to scream, wanted to run, or hit something very hard with the weighted silverite head of her staff until it stopped moving. She didn't even register movement until she was looking into her lover's blue eyes as he gently wiped away her tears and nestled against his chest.

 

“It's been a hard time for you, my lady. Never feel like you have to hold in your sorrows for me.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, right at the center of the arrowhead vallaslin. He knew she was a rock for so many, an inspiration to more, yet who did she have to turn to when she needed comfort? There wasn't much he could offer her. He was a criminal, a murderer who had fled the hangman's noose for too long. Until she showed him that he had changed. He was no longer the selfish bastard he had once been. Maybe he hadn't been the old Ranier in a long time. Comfort was all he could offer, to be  _her_ rock when she needed it.

 

Her voice, thick and heavy from crying, whispered softly to him, “Ma serannas, ma vhenan. Ma melava halani.”

 

For the first time in a long time, she sleeps soundly.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Back in the saddle after nearly a decade off writing, and first time writing for this particular fandom! I'm hoping I got characterizations right and that I actually remember how to do this properly...
> 
> Also, what Maeve says at the end translates to "Thank you, my heart. You helped me."


End file.
